


breaking the chains

by ghostofgatsby



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Celebrity Crush, Concerts, First Meetings, Former Popstar, Indie-Folk Music, M/M, Pining, drabbles-for-charity-prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: The line shortened quickly, and Ross swiftly moved up to the front. He fiddled with the laminated backstage pass on the lanyard around his neck, trying to remember what it was he was going to say, suddenly overwhelmed with a burst of nerves. He’d never been able to meet Smith directly like this before, even though he’d been a fan for a long time.“Hello,” Smith said simply. His blue eyes met Ross’, and he smiled.Fuck, this was actually happening. Shit.





	breaking the chains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psylid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psylid/gifts).



> For the "drabbles"-for-charities thing I'm doing. Find info about it here:  
> https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2018/06/21/the-world-sucks-and-theres-no-fic-to-read-lets-change-that/
> 
> Another one of the ideas Kez requested was "Smith’s band is on tour, and he’s noticed Ross ‘Definitely-not-a-Groupie’ Hornby at every show." This is soooort of extended from a musician AU idea I have, but it takes place after Smith had a bunch of drama with the press and getting out of his crappy recording contract. It's not really pertinent, so it could very easily be taken out of that loose AU I had before. But Ross wasn't in that one, anyway, so here he is, being a super fan. Hope you like it, Kez ^^.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2018/07/03/breaking-the-chains-ghostofgatsby
> 
> cw: nothing I can think of? mention of smoke.  
> If I need to tag anything, let me know.

Ross tapped his foot along with the music playing overhead as he waited in line backstage. The queue was a dozen people long, trailing away from a folding table loaded with posters and merch. Behind the table was Alex Smith, dressed in a fresh burgundy shirt with the band’s initials monogrammed on the shoulder.

The aftermath of the concert had left his auburn hair boyishly tousled. Smith’s eyes were brighter up close, his face more animated in small ways while he signed messages for fans. The former pop star turned indie-folk success had recently broke free from his label, and started producing his own work, with a backing band called “Foolish for Some.” Ross had fallen in love with the singer since Smith’s hit single blew up Itunes charts. Though Smith’s style had changed drastically from electronic synth-pop to more of an bluegrass folk rock, Ross still loved everything Smith had a part in creating.

The line shortened quickly, and Ross swiftly moved up to the front. He fiddled with the laminated backstage pass on the lanyard around his neck, trying to remember what it was he was going to say, suddenly overwhelmed with a burst of nerves. He’d never been able to meet Smith directly like this before, even though he’d been a fan for a long time.

A couple girls in front of him loudly squealed their thanks and were gestured aside by the band’s security. Walking space cleared in front of Ross, and behind the table Smith scratched at his scraggly beard.

“Hello,” he said simply. His blue eyes met Ross’, and he smiled.

Fuck, this was actually happening. Shit. Ross shuffled forward in an awkward burst of energy. “Hi. Hey. Uh. Wow.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” Smith asked. A common question, something he heard him ask every backstage guest like it was from a script.

“Oh! Yeah, it was awesome. One of your best, I think. I really enjoyed it.” Ross smiled.

“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.”

Ross felt his cheeks start to blush. “I’m uh. A really big fan of yours. I mean...I’ve been to _every_ show,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Smith raised his eyebrows in surprise. “ _All_ of them?”

“All of them. I’ve seen all your shows here, and the big ones in New York, Chicago, London, Amsterdam...” Every music festival he’d ever been to or performed at. All the packed, crowded coffee-shop shows Smith did early on. Ross had racked up quite a lot of frequent flyer credits.

“Fuck. Wow.” Smith laughed. He looked at Ross for a long moment. “You know...I think I’ve seen you around, actually. You look familiar.”

Ross chuckled nervously. “That’s probably weird, sorry.”

“Nah, I mean. If I had the time I’d go to any concerts I could, too, of artists I like. Thanks for the support.” He gave Ross a tight-lipped smile. Smith wasn’t as genial and happy-go-lucky as the press and his old recording boss had made him out to be, but some of that had eased up in recent tours. His personality may not have been as outwardly jovial, but it was more genuine.

“You’re one of my favorite artists. I’ve loved your work since I saw you on Youtube. But your recent single is amazing- the acoustic is so different, and the lyrics...”

“It’s original work.” There’s relief, and a tired bitterness in his eyes. “I’m really glad you like it. Especially if you’ve been a fan for so long.”

“I love it. I’m really glad tonight’s concert was more like that style. And the album. I think it sounds more...real, you know? The emotion in your voice, it’s more authentic, and...honest.” Ross realized he’s babbling and snapped his mouth shut.

Smith’s expression softened. “Thank you. Really. That means a hell of a lot.” He fidgeted with the sharpie in his hand, turning the cap around and around. It seemed like Smith wanted to say something more about it, but he didn’t.

With press debacles and changing recording contracts, Smith had an up and down past year. His lyrics on his recent songs were so much more raw, and everyone suspected that was the reason behind it. Ross itched to know the truth, but he knew he could never pry. He wouldn’t be any better than tabloids if he did.

“So, who do I make this out to?” Smith asked, sliding another poster from the pile. It was a brand new tour poster, of Smith in the foreground, his band behind him, with broken chains crisscrossing the shadows.

Ross cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t crack from nerves. “It’s Ross.”

“Like the character from _Friends_?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Ross...” Smith smiled and scrawled squeaky sharpie in the corner of the poster, a brief pause in between a couple words and his signature. The smell of the chemical fumes mixed with the faint smoke lingering from someone’s cigarette.

Smith carefully blew on the glossy paper to dry it and recapped his sharpie. “There you go.” He handed him the autograph.

Instead of a stereotypical “Break the chains!” that Ross expected and had seen on others’ posters, it read something simpler.

“ _Ross,_

_Thank you._

_Alex Smith of Foolish for Some_ ”

Ross carefully held the poster to his chest, mindful of the sharpie and trying not to fold it in any way. Out of the corner of his eye, one of the security guards was gesturing for him to leave the table. “Thanks so much. It’s been really nice to meet you and everything. Have a great rest of your night,” he said, grinning sheepishly at the excitement of it all.

Smith smiled as if sharing a private joke with himself. “I will,” he said, and winked. “See you at the next one, groupie.”


End file.
